


Hiding in Plain Sight

by Isaoverfloing_withfeelings



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isaoverfloing_withfeelings/pseuds/Isaoverfloing_withfeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isa: Do you want to be with me or not? What are you hiding from? Make up your mind, because this hurts too much. Angst posing as anger. Florence has broken up with a boyfriend, but has trouble accepting her confusing feelings for her older friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What are you running from?

**Chapter One: What are you running from?**

Isa spun away from Florence, not wanting her to see the tears streaming down her reddened face, even though she knew that her tall friend would know they were there, and was probably also crying.

“You do this _all the time_!” she choked out. “What is it about you and yer boys?” She turned back toward Flo. “These shitty fucks you end up with are no good for you!”

Flo looked miserable and wouldn’t look Isa in the eye. “You don’t understand—” she started.

“No, you’re right. I don’t,” Isa spat back. “They hit you; they cheat on you; they humiliate you in front of your friends—they call _me_ nasty names— _while_ I’m in the room, I might add— _and you let them!_ ” She turned away from her friend again. “No,” she repeated, “I don’t understand that at all.”

She slumped into a nearby chair, defeated now, her head resting on her arm. Her pink-tipped hair covered her face. “Go home, Florence,” she said, her voice muffled and thick with tears. “Just go home. I don’t want to fight with you. Just go home.”

The redhead tentatively put her hand out toward the small blonde woman, but pulled it back. She wanted Isabella to understand how secure these men made her feel, that at some time in the future she wanted a normal home life. It was something she felt deprived of after her grandmother died and her parents divorced. She desperately wanted this, and believed that only a relationship with a man could give it to her. Isa’s tirade told her that this explanation wouldn’t cut it though. So she slowly walked out of the door to the Schloft and pulled it softly to.

She was too emotionally exhausted to even get on her bicycle. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Grace to come and take her home. Grace had the good grace not to question Florence what the fight was about. She had a very good idea, in any case. Flo’s face pretty much gave away the story. Same old, same old; her sister hid her feelings so poorly. When they reached their house, the older girl fled to her room and threw herself face down on her mattress, sobbing.

That night she sneaked out of her window after everyone was asleep to go to the pub down the street. All she could think of was to numb her pain from her fight with Isa, and the break up from her current _ex-_ boyfriend. With luck, she wouldn’t see either of them, and could enjoy herself for a change.

The music was loud and after a couple of shots of tequila, she got up on the dance floor, swaying to the music with her eyes closed. It didn’t take long before someone came up behind and placed their hands on her hips, moving with her to the beat of the song the band was playing. She didn’t even take the trouble to look over her shoulder to see who it was. Someone taller than she was, so probably one of the young male patrons. She moved back against his body, savoring the feel of another body against hers.

When he began kissing her neck, she moaned softly and leaned further into his embrace. If only she could let herself fall into this moment and not have to think about her confusing feelings….

“Would you like another drink? What are you having?”

“Jose Cuervo. Make it a double, if you would…?” She felt a smile against the back of her head.

She tossed it off quickly, and her head began to swim. The warmth of the alcohol made her feel giddy. She pulled away from her dance partner, twirling slowly around. “Florence-- Come give us a tune, wouldn’t you?” a familiar voice said. She couldn’t focus though. “Sure,” she grinned, “anything—just—anything—.”

The next morning, Flo couldn’t remember how she’d got home, her head ached so much. But she was face down on her mattress, still dressed from the night before, so someone must have called Grace to retrieve her. Grace—who must’ve been so highly annoyed to be woken that early in the morning that she let her sister stay in her clothes, instead of helping her get her pajamas on.

Groaning, she reached a hand out, shuffling through some of the debris on her floor looking for her phone, which she heard going off. Isa’s tone—nope—not answering that, she thought. The redheaded girl threw the phone onto her mattress and rolled back over. Fuck it—she’s not my mum—she’s got no right, and promptly passed out again.

A while later, she heard her sister’s angry voice, “Flossie! Get _up!_ And get up _now!_ ” telling her to stop acting like a child. Something about not babysitting—and obligations—adult responsibilities—

“NO!” she shouted back. “I’m too worn out—.” But then the long-legged young woman jumped up and ran past Grace, out of the house, heading toward the park. She knew they’d know where she was, but she didn’t care. She just needed to be away from everyone for a bit.

Rob finally showed up, Isa in tow, though reluctantly from the way she hung back. “Honey, come down,” he asked softly. “We need you to come with. Please?” He reached a long arm up to her.

“Get her away and I will,” she said, pointing at her small friend. “I don’t want to talk with her—.”

Isa threw her hands up and turned away abruptly. “Ah, fuck you, Welch—I’ve better things to do—see you later—if you decide to show—. You know where we are.”

Florence accompanied Rob to the studio, because she really did want to work on some of the new material. Nothing gave her so much joy as singing. Well, she mentally rolled her eyes at herself, sometimes partying.

She knew it was wrong to take her anger and confusion out on her bandmates, but she didn’t know how to talk to anyone about it. She found practice difficult, because she kept looking toward Isabella, who made it a point of turning her gaze elsewhere. Finally, she ran out of the studio and slumped against the washroom wall, with tears streaming down her face. She placed her forehead on her arms and longed for Isa to comfort her, but didn’t think she would.

When it turned out so, and Rob came instead, she was sad and glad. “Think we could it a day, Robert dear,” she said softly. “Take me to mum’s work?”

“If you let me give you a hug,” he said. And she moved gratefully into his long arms, leaning her head against his broad chest.

“I am _such_ a wretch—how do you put up with me?” she questioned through her tears.

“Ah, Flossie,” he sighed. “Come,” and led her out to his car.

Evelyn held Florence gently when Rob handed her over. “Honey, you can’t keep treating your friends this way.”

Flo wouldn’t look her mother in the eye. “Like what?” she said, sullenly.

“Like they don’t care about you. As _if_ they don’t care about the music as much as you. You should talk to them, not run away. You know problems don’t go away just because you wish them to.”

The girl tried to push away, but Evelyn wasn’t having any of it, shaking her a little, to get her attention. “Stop. You’re not talking with Isa now; you’re talking to your mum. Think. What is it you want? What are you hiding?

You don’t need to tell me. You’re a woman grown, though you’re not acting like it. Work it out. Then go talk with Isa.”


	2. What do you want me to say? Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence feels depressed. She knows there is truth in Isabella’s assessment of her relationship to men, yet a part of her wants it both ways. This leaves her feeling confused and she does her best to avoid talking about it. Isa won't leave it alone though, and keeps pushing the issue. Flo reflects on how it all started. And how totally awkward it had gotten.

Ch. Two What do you want me to say? Part One

Her mother had other duties to attend to before she left for the day, so Florence waited in the office and looked at Evelyn’s book shelves. She smiled when she saw her mother’s book. The redhead was so proud of all Evelyn had done, from moving so far from her own family, to raising her and her sibs by herself for a time after a divorce, to deaths in the family, trying to manage a blended family, and her academic achievements. Florence was constantly amazed at what her mother had accomplished. And Grace seemed to take after her. Sometimes Flo envied her more logical mind.

 

Florence felt so useless sometimes, as if she would never amount to anything. This was even though she had _two_ number one albums out, had toured all over the world, and was currently working on a new one. Sometimes she felt as if she were a child just being babysat. Maired arranged interviews for her and told her where and when to show up. They arranged various gigs for her and the band. She was fitted for fancy clothes that she sometimes felt she had no business wearing. At times, it was exhilarating, but other times quite terrifying. It was part of why she drank so much and played around with pills and various other drugs. Nightmares and visions. If only she could go through life sedated, a nice warm fuzzy feeling, where she didn’t have to make any decisions other than the creative ones. The best part was her friendship with Isa. They made their music together, and the small blonde woman was always there for her. Till right now, and at this thought Flo’s mouth turned downward.

 

The young woman shook her head. Depressing. Where was it coming from? She sat down in her mother’s chair, and laid her head and arms on her mother’s desk. Soon she was dozing, and then the ghosts came to talk to her. Aah! She jumped up, confused as to where she was. She sat back down and pulled her legs up onto the chair, resting her chin on them. She kept her eyes open in order to keep the dark thoughts away. Even in daytime sometimes, it was hard to keep them away.

 

Her thoughts turned toward what Isa had said to her. Flo knew that there was at least a kernel of truth in what Isa said about her choice of boys. She was attracted to decisive men, and didn’t quite “get” the controlling nature of this type of man. They seemed to feel that they could “tame” her, but she could be pretty obstinate if they began telling her who she could or couldn’t hang out with. Often this involved her friendship with Isa; the pair were so close that the boyfriends usually became jealous of the time spent together. But she hated to give up on the relationship too, and this led to quite a bit of confusion over who she should stand up for in an argument.

 

She loved hanging out with Isa and making music together. At least what the two of them did together turned into music. They both had art school background, although Flo had dropped out to pursue her music, and they played around with drawings, collages, other genres of music, various beats—ideas from almost anything could become a song. It was quite funny and pretty much impossible to explain to someone else. They’d get shitfaced at parties or just hanging out together and often end up in the Schloft experimenting with various items lying around the apartment to see what kinds of sounds could be produced. She didn’t understand why hers and Isa’s time together was such a problem for the men in her life. What did they see that she didn’t? What did _Isa_ see that she didn’t? Why did they all want her to choose sides? What could she say to make everyone happy?

 

An uncomfortable thought intruded—she and Isa had begun to play some “games” when they were drunk and alone in the Schloft or in hotel rooms late at night after a gig. Both of them had sleep issues: Flo with getting to sleep, Isa with staying asleep. Being the only two girls in the band, they shared a room, and had begun sharing a bed to help each other cope with the sleeping difficulties.

 

One time Florence suggested that a back rub might help put her to sleep, so Isa had straddled her hips while she lay face down on the bed, and had begun massaging the redhead’s shoulders. There was an ice bucket on the nightstand, so the tiny blonde reached over and grabbed a piece of ice which she stuck inside her friend’s pants. Flo screamed and quickly rolled over, grabbing Isa’s hands. This left to a scuffle, ending with Florence lying on top of Isa. In a fit of silliness, Flo leaned down and licked the other woman’s face, then kissed her on the mouth.

 

Isa blinked in surprise, and lay still, saying nothing. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, because the other’s actions had caught her off-guard, and she realized she liked both the feel of Flo’s body on top of hers and the kiss. She felt responsible for the situation, being several years older of the two, although the massage _had_ been Flo’s idea, but she had no idea what to do next. She thought furiously.

 

“Erm—mind removing yer carcass from mine, miss? It’s getting kind of close down here,” she said, trying to play it down and not embarrass her friend.

 

The tactic didn’t work. The leggy girl jumped up as if bitten and ran into the bathroom crying. “I was only playing! I didn’t mean anything! It’s a joke! _I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry_ —!”

 

Once Isa had calmed her down though, and explained that Flo had just caught her off-guard and that really she—kind of liked kissing other women, Flo got bolder and began touching her hair or her hand, or brushing against her when they were out walking around. This led to late night cuddles in bed, along with soft kisses that turned into passionate ones and intimate touching. From then on, they often woke up tangled up in the bedclothes and each other, sometimes not quite looking each other in the eye later in the day, because of a feeling that it wasn’t quite right. The problem _was,_ it had been going on for some time, with no kind of resolution on Flo’s part. She felt badly that she was on-again, off-again with her friend, yet couldn’t make up her mind one way or the other.

 

And that _was_ how she felt—that she was on-again,off-again with _Isa_ , not with those fellows she went with. Mostly when that was over, _it was **over!**_ Holy fucking shitstorm! What’s a girl supposed to do?


End file.
